Thursday, May 25, 2006

Sunday Morning El Camino

sunday morning coming down. i am only wearing a pair of khaki shorts and small gold wire frame glasses. my torso is slightly hunched towards the stock thin plastic stearing wheel. no shirt. no shoes. i like the way the vinyl seat feels against my back. slick, sticky and warm. my feet are hot from the heat coming from the engine firewall near the gas, brake and clutch. the bottom of my foot neatly wraps around the clutch pedal like a palm against a warm mug. my right hand rests atop the two foot tall chromed gearshift with its faux ivory ball inlaid with the joker skull wearing an ace of spades card in his top hat. the acrid fumes are fabulous. heavy grease and gas. vinyl and coconut air freshener. the interior is a beautiful burnt orange and antique white piping and buttons on the seats. the whole car shimmies with 454 cubic inches of iron displacement. shaking while standing still. glorious horsepower. the light has turned green and my foot comes off the clutch mechanically realeasing the intense surge of torque and raw horses from the engine. everything lurches in slow motion as the wheels start to break from the concrete and squeal. there is a slight lift and lunge to the left. the clutch and stick are in synchronicity squealing the tires again briefly and now we are being pulled forward. my head is against the back glass with the corners of my mouth aching from my deep, broad smile. oh dear jesus the sound. the trees, parked cars and buildings are rushing by in sudden blurs. the black hood stripes racing alongside the white street lines. the whole sparse mettalic cabin feels and smells like a bomb. again i slap at the clucth and pedal and we are in full motion rocketing headlong down the boulevard. you can feel the cogs and gears all coming together and the forces being transferred to the wheels with each movement of the clutch. the tach hops around the dash. the speedometer climbing ever higher. the last gear approaches and i crank the beast into one last fit of power. hurtling down the road with the roar of air over the hood and the rush of the wind through the two windows. now a cool rush of air fills the car from the nearby lake.

2 Comments:

my right hand rests atop the two foot tall chromed gearshift with its faux ivory ball inlaid with the joker skull wearing an ace of spades card in his top hat

I NEED to find a hat that has this exact symbol on it... if you could help me find out who made that symbol... or know where i could get such a hat I would be forever grateful... Thanks!!! please email me at yumydragonsblood@aol.comthanks so much!!! Lynn